Twentieth Illustration: The World of Advanced Civilization

With a flick of his hand, Boya made “Water Lilies Awaken” vanish; several energies gathered in his palm, intensifying until they became a turbulent, unbalanced mist. He pulled his hands apart, causing the energy cloud to expand, then pressed his palms inward, compressing and colliding the different energies within a small space. The fog rolled and surged, teetering on the edge of explosion, but as balance settled in, it gradually formed a sphere of water.

“First, you create a vessel. The primary elements are water, wood, fire, earth, and metal, arranged according to the principles of mutual generation and restraint. By continually condensing energy, you’ll obtain a vessel. Although you can buy or commission ready-made vessels of every imaginable energy pattern, I still recommend you learn to craft them yourself. Only a vessel you make with your own hands will perfectly match your work.”

Boya turned the water sphere of five-element energy in his hand and infused it with the energy of life. Visible colors bloomed within the sphere—faint at first, then growing vivid, displaying a dazzling array of reds, oranges, yellows, greens, blues, indigos, and violets. The overall hue leaned toward yellow-green, reminiscent of the wild outdoors in early spring—sprouting grass, tender new shoots, and freshly-budded flowers.

“Depending on the function of the painting you intend to create, add the corresponding attribute energy to your vessel. I’m making a medium for detoxification, limb regeneration, and star force recovery, common up to the Mystic level. For this, I’m adding life energy to enhance vitality. Your mineral pigments also have attributes; remember to select the proper ones when painting, or use balanced pigments if needed.”

Energy battered against the interior; colors gradually condensed into substance, like flowing watercolor. Boya pressed his forehead to the crystal sphere, and the hues inside became ever more vivid, shifting into forms of flowers, grasses, trees, birds, beasts, insects, and fish.

“Next, imbue the vessel with the relevant rules according to the painting’s intended function—purification, regeneration, energy infusion. For now, you’re far from wielding the rules as you wish, so you can also incorporate clerical skills—healing, purification, grand benedictions, and so forth. These are derived from the laws of life themselves. But such works are of lower grade and will be exhausted if used too often, just like the ‘Narcissus Painting’ you used for mischief upon arrival. Such painters are merely craftsmen of vessels.”

Cupping the sphere, Boya gently kneaded it. The colors within flowed and shifted in rhythm with his hands, gradually settling. At the center, a verdant sapling rapidly put forth branches and leaves, blossomed into a profusion of flowers, whose petals fell, only for new buds to sprout in their place. The dancing petals dissolved into energy, reabsorbed by the vessel—an endless cycle, teeming with life.

“Finally, solidify the form. Once this step is complete, your painting is finished.”

Sangsang gazed at the globe in Boya’s palm, utterly entranced. “Is this also a painting? It’s as if you’re a creator, fashioning a world.”

“Every painter is a creator, bringing forth the worlds within their paintings,” Boya replied with a gentle smile. He brought the sphere before Sangsang, slowly turning it to reveal the blossoming, swirling springtime scene inside. “This contains the law of space—a simple, miniature world. It can accommodate thirty to fifty people for brief stays.”

Suddenly Sangsang asked, “Can you add any law? Even secret techniques?”

“You can,” Boya answered, glancing at her as if seeing through her thoughts, though his smile remained unchanged. “However, any mark of faith from the Sanctum must be reviewed. White is the neutral point; above it are yellow, green, blue, and teal; below are orange, red, purple, and black. Only those with color values above neutral may circulate.”

Sangsang recalled the various world-paintings hanging outside the treehouse. Most crystal spheres shimmered yellow, green, blue, or teal, but she’d seen orange, red, and purple—never black. “What’s the standard for assessment? Is the most powerful effect teal?”

A hint of irony played at Boya’s lips, though his tone remained graceful and detached. “The ranking describes cultivation class; the color only reflects the danger of the faith mark to believers. The higher the position, the safer; the lower, the greater the risk. Except for the law of life, most laws are neither good nor bad—only suitable or unsuitable. Even healing potions can be poisonous if misused. To become strong sometimes means taking risks. Thus, except for the deathly black, orange, red, and purple are popular among the more restless orders. As long as the faithful request them, they can be approved.”

Sangsang nodded thoughtfully.

“As you are now, you couldn’t create a purple or black work no matter how hard you tried. This rule isn’t relevant to you yet. When you become a Saintess and begin your apprenticeship, you’ll have time to learn. For now, let’s discuss the law imprints.”

Why isn’t it relevant? Little Gold works so hard at odd jobs. I want to sell paintings and earn money too. When the Celestial Emperor and the others arrive—thousands of people—even if they’re provided for, people need something more than just food and shelter. The Sanctum’s prices are high; with empty pockets, I’ll be anxious.

Sangsang grumbled inwardly, but as Boya turned to the main topic, she quickly refocused.

“It doesn’t matter whether your painting is flat, multidimensional, or a virtual image. What matters is that it’s powerful and widely useful. Solid objects last longer than songs or dances and are better for attracting followers. Here, a follower means anyone who truly believes your work can help them. How to distinguish the sincere from those feigning faith to exploit you? That’s where faith imprints come in.”

Boya dropped two drops of liquid into Sangsang’s eyes, enabling her to see the laws in their true form. With his fingertip, he traced intricate patterns across the surface of the sphere, leaving a tangled web of rule marks, like a formation diagram.

“Give trust, receive reward—trust is the wellspring of faith. The more devout the belief, the purer the faith. Equivalent exchange is both a law and a rule developed over time—one of the most commonly used in the Sanctum. Does it look familiar? From one perspective, it’s a formation, much like the embryonic law you copied onto your work, only more complex.”

When the equivalent exchange mark was complete, the lines sank into the sphere and vanished.

“Now, to benefit from the world-painting’s healing, one must pass through the law of equivalent exchange. Those who aren’t sincere, who won’t offer trust, will be rejected. Remember: the law imprint must encircle the entire work—leave no gaps. There will always be those who covet gain without effort, doubting yet wanting reward.”

Sangsang rubbed her sore eyes. “Teacher, you moved too fast—I only memorized half of the law imprint.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Boya said dismissively, as if he hadn’t just stressed its importance. “The most common laws are the top sellers among merchants. There are hundreds of candy brands containing the equivalent exchange law. Eat a piece of each and, even if you’re slow, you’ll remember it.”

Sangsang pressed her lips together, uncertain how to reply. She’d forgotten that law candies were commonplace here, though there was no harm in memorizing the law imprints herself.